


Taking the Lead

by goaskjane



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goaskjane/pseuds/goaskjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a spectacular dancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking the Lead

Sherlock was a fantastic dancer.

John wasn’t quite sure why this surprised him – perhaps because the world’s only consulting detective had managed to “delete” all other basic human interactions _and_ the solar system from his impressive mind – but when Sherlock _did_ decide to do something, he only did so with the utmost perfection.

The way that John discovered Sherlock’s hidden talent was this: they were on a case, as always, this time at a swanky Christmas party for a publishing company that was experiencing some corporate espionage. Sherlock’s expertise was needed to flush out the mole and recover the lost information. Sherlock – in his typical efforts to never go about something in the expected manner – decided that the best opportunity to retrieve this information would be when the lesser minds of the London corporate community were inebriated and occupied with thoughts of holidays and affairs and gifts. John had to admit, he probably had a point.

At any rate, Sherlock had pulled John out onto the dance floor, ignoring John’s protestations that this was a largely politically-conservative group of people and they would draw a lot of unwanted attention. “Anyone paying attention to us obviously has nothing else on their mind and can be eliminated as a suspect. The dance floor is in the center of the room and turning will allow me the best possible viewpoint of the entire room. Now stop complaining, John, and waltz.”

“I don’t know how to waltz, Sherlock,” John hissed.

“Don’t worry, I do.”

Of course, Sherlock led. He wrapped one arm unabashedly around John’s waist and took his right hand in his left. He stepped forward with his left foot and John hesitantly followed with his right. They stepped out to John’s left, and closed the step with a half-turn to John’s right. The next step was a mirror to the first, then started over from the beginning; after a few measures of string quartet music, John felt that he could at least manage to follow Sherlock’s lead.

“The violin is out of tune,” Sherlock said with passing annoyance, his eyes still scanning the room with almost unsettling rapidity. “By about a half-step.” He squinted at someone over John’s shoulder, but must have decided that they were unimportant, for he soon resumed his observations of the room as a whole.

“Sherlock,” John ventured, his annoyance waning as the taller man spun him smoothly about the dance floor, “where did you learn to dance like this?”

Sherlock huffed, disliking “chatter” (as he called it) while thinking, but he answered John all the same; he always answered John, no matter what he was doing. “Mummy insisted that Mycroft and I both learn. I was twelve. It was tedious.”

“Why didn’t you delete it?”

“It’s best not to cross Mummy.” They left it at that and John felt his cheeks lift the littlest bit at the notion of Sherlock as a “momma’s boy”.

The waltz ended and John found himself wondering with growing disappointment if Sherlock would abandon his dancing experiment, but grinned when he was steered into another dance he didn’t know. It was quite possibly the most openly-homosexual activity in which John had ever engaged. He didn’t care. This was Sherlock and Sherlock was the exception to just about every rule. John smiled and sighed and rested his head against Sherlock’s shoulder; he was at just the right height to press his cheek to Sherlock’s clavicle and feel his pulse next to his ear. Sherlock surprised him and planted a swift kiss to the top of John’s head before resuming his observations.

There was only one company employee not in attendance and Sherlock deduced that this must be the person to blame for the leaking information. The case was all-but-solved and he and John took a cab back to Baker Street.

Sherlock led the dance, of course, but John took control once they crossed the threshold of their shared flat. He pressed Sherlock urgently against the closed door in their little second-floor hallway, taking his mouth in a searing kiss that left Sherlock breathless and John feeling very smug. John’s hands reached under Sherlock’s suit jacket and threw it to the floor; he knew that Sherlock would complain about it later, but John felt a little bit of naughty excitement at the idea of pissing him off. For now, it landed without notice by the detective and John continued to undress him as they backed toward Sherlock’s bedroom – it was closest.

John had Sherlock spread out across the dark sheets in short order, completely divested of his suit and pants, breathing accelerated and pupils blown wide as he watched John hasten out of his own suit. He hated wearing the thing, but blimey, did he like taking it off. Especially for Sherlock.

When John pressed into his lover, it was slow and smooth, like the dance had been, and their hands found each other on the duvet and twisted together deliciously. Sherlock’s hips came up to meet John’s every thrust, their rhythm gradually increasing. Their breathing reached a frantic tempo and John cried out as he came.

He was thoroughly spent, but Sherlock was not, and John left him wanting for less than a second before sliding out of Sherlock and crawling down his body to take him in his mouth. His fingers slipped back into Sherlock and pressed firmly against his prostate and it took only a few short moments before Sherlock moaned deep in his chest. The rumbling timbre of his voice vibrated through his thighs and around John’s ears as he drank his lover in. At last, John let his head fall to the side, resting comfortably against Sherlock’s thigh as he caught his breath. He planted a lazy kiss there and Sherlock’s fingers wound their way lovingly into John’s hair.

“What brought that on?” Sherlock asked.

John shrugged and smiled. “I was impressed by your mad skills on the dance floor.”

Sherlock chuckled. “You should see me in the clubs.”


End file.
